


Community Engagement

by GratiaPlena



Category: Jam and Jerusalem
Genre: Clatterford, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Jam & Jerusalem
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-11 13:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15973076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GratiaPlena/pseuds/GratiaPlena
Summary: The Big Wheel asks Clatterford’s Women’s Guild to engage the wider community in their activities. But no sooner do the ladies attempt this, or they find themselves divided and at bitter odds. It is amost as baffling as Brexit. Will the bounds still get beaten this year? And will the ULMoH (Underground Ladies’ Maffia of Hole) finally succeed in their life long ambition of toppling their arch nemesis: chairwoman Eileen? Clatterford hasn’t seen this much excitement since..well actually, life’s been quite exciting in these parts as of late. I may need to move to a more rural part of the internet.





	1. new CEOs for the CWG, ASAP

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unofficial Guild Members](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10550088) by [sevtacular](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevtacular/pseuds/sevtacular). 



> The story is a sequel to ‘Queenie’s 70th Search Party’. The rating is T for Caroline’s misunderstandings, never for any un-lady-like things. 
> 
> The ULMoH (Underground Ladies’ Maffia of Hole) is a figment of the brilliant imagination of Sevtacular. Do read their Holby City Berena and J&J Caroline/Susie crossover fic! This particular paragraph sparked my imagination:
> 
>  
> 
> _"In the end they reached the stage where Hole had its own underground mafia of ex-women’s guild officials from up and down the country, who had retired there in order to live in a hole in the ground surrounding Hole where they planned out their combined lifelong ambition of bringing about the downfall of the Clatterford Women’s Guild chairwoman. Eileen had managed to hear of their scheme and so had forbidden anybody from mentioning the place or even travelling to it for fear of them being recruited into the web of criminal activity made entirely of knitting needles and orthopaedic mattresses. "_
> 
>  
> 
> As before, this is just my attempt to live in the world of this series for a little longer. (God, I miss it!) And, as before, Clatterford is quite a lot gayer than it was in the tv series, and it is even gayer than my previous story. I'm just following orders. Progressive gayness of fictional places is all part of the Gay Agenda, you understand. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_In which covens are mistaken for frogs, Kate gets thrown under the bus and a wild evening is planned._

* * *

“And that concludes part 2 of 5 of my series on aquatic birds in the work of Hilma af Klint,” said Pauline. 

The enthusiastic applause from Eileen echoed through the community hall. It seemed to awaken all the ladies of the Clatterford Women’s Guild, and they politely clapped once or twice. 

“Only three more to go,” whispered Tip to Queenie. “We can survive this.”

“Thank you Pauline, thank you ladies.” Eileen stood and walked to the lectern. “I ask for your continued attention to the last item on our agenda: community engagement.”

She motioned to Pauline to show the corresponding powerpoint slide. Pictures of women and their smiling families were displayed. A slide with pictures of women with a cake stand at a county fair followed.

“This year the Big Wheel puts emphasis on our connections to the wider community of Clatterford. We do not live in a vacuum, ladies. Our expertise can be shared with our fellow villagers and perhaps, I do go out on a limb here, but perhaps even with our neighbouring villages.” 

“With _Hole_?!” asked Kate.

Eileen shuddered. The very mention of that treacherous village made her feel uncomfortable. “Well,” she said. “Well. Ahem. No, I was thinking more along the lines of Mousenun or St. Shant. Anyway. Moving swiftly on.” She gestured wildly. Her regalia tinkled on her bosom. “Swiftly, thank you! Next slide. Please, Pauline.”

A slogan was displayed in the bright font of the Big Wheel. COME TOGETHER, WORK TOGETHER.

“As you can tell from the 2018 slogan, the Big Wheel wants us to really come together and bring the community-”

A very annoyed Caroline interrupted her. “I beg your pardon, Eileen, but I take _grave_ offence.”

“To what exactly?”

“You assured me before I joined that we would only partake in baking together and singing together and the like?”

“Yes...?”

Caroline stood up and pointed at Eileen. “Didn’t I _**explicitly**_ tell you that I would not join a women’s club, if female empowerment was propagated through ritual sex magic?”

A confused hush descended upon the community hall. Eileen frowned and held up her hands in defense. “I do remember you said something perplexing along those lines, yes Caroline, but…”

Caroline continued in a clipped tone. “Quite! Then why would this fine British institution suddenly be asking us to orgasm in unison to further our cause? Are we a coven, I ask you?”

The ladies gasped. Eileen’s face was suddenly quite red and she grabbed the top of the lectern for support.

“Well...?” asked Tip, never one to let a controversy pass by. “Are we?”

Eileen’s voice was at least an octave higher. “Ladies! I fail to see..!.”

“Eileen, I’ve got this!” interrupted Susie. “Caroline? Shush! Sit.” She pulled at Caroline’s sleeve. “Wrong end of the stick, darling.”

“Are we quite sure?” asked Caroline.

“Positive. I’ll explain at home.” 

Caroline sat down reluctantly. “They should do well to communicate unambiguously,” she muttered.

“Does she not like ambiguians?” whispered Rosie loudly to Susie. 

Susie shrugged.

“Shame,” said Rosie. “Some frogs turn to princes, you know. Or princesses, I should think.” 

“Amphibians! You are thinking of amphibians Rosie,” said Eileen. “For the love of all that is good and holy, where was I?!”

“Covens? Princesses?” Kate prompted. It didn’t help.

Thankfully Eileen was rescued by the ever stoic presence of Pauline. “Shall I just proceed to the next slide?” 

“I think that is wise,” replied Eileen - a quiver in her voice. “Dearie me, I think that is very wise indeed. Now ladies, your continued, **_dignified_** attention, please! As I was saying-”

“Will there be pictures of frogs?” asked Rosie.

“Rosie, please!” warned Eileen.

“Or covens?” Rosie tried. “I don’t think I have seen covens? Are they like ovens? ...at all?”

“ _No!_ ” shrieked Eileen and slumped forwards on the lectern. She was just about to bang her head onto it for good measure, when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and heard Pauline’s monotone voice: “I will add a picture of a coven to my lecture for next week, Rosie. It will cover the theosophical aspects to Hilma af Klint’s work.” 

“And frogs?”

“There will be three paintings that include frogs and one with an amphibian of undetermined taxonomy.” Pauline helped Eileen stand up straight again, clapped her on the back and took up her position behind the Guild’s laptop once more.

“Thank you, Pauline. Thank you. Now, if I may continue, Rosie?” 

Rosie nodded happily.

Eileen carefully avoided any double entendre, or indeed anything that could be misheard for kitchen appliances or animals, as she explained that the Big Wheel was looking forward to reaching out to their fellow villagers, and using their combined talents to uplift their wider region. To that purpose, the Big Wheel asked each chapter to appoint an officer for Community Engagement. Were there any volunteers?

“Me!” shouted Rosie excitedly. “I have always wanted to be a Community Endangerment Officer!”

“Engagement Officer, dearie,” Queenie said to her.

“OH! What I have always wanted to be, right? What I have REALLY always wanted to be is a Royal Engagement!”

Eileen gestured to the lectern. “Rosie, tell the group what makes you uniquely qualified for this role within our Guild?” 

Rosie walked up behind the lectern, stood on tiptoes, and shyly proclaimed: “I am a fairy godmother!”

It was silent for a little while. Rosie beamed at the ladies before her.

“Was that all, dear?” asked Eileen.

“Isn’t that plenty of enough qualification for anything in life, dear?” asked Tip. “Officer chosen. Time for the pub, coven maties!”

But Eileen didn’t want any more of her lip today. She simply raised her hand to keep everyone quiet. “Now Rosie, how has being a fairy godmother prepared you for the role of Community Engagement Officer?”

“I make people realise they are in love - such as Caroline and Susie, and Delilah and the cheeseman in Hole.”

Eileen cringed once more at the mention of Hole, and her eyes scanned the room. No Delilah today...no Sal either...hmm. Would they be in Hole? She pushed her sense of unease aside as she addressed Rosie again. “How will the skill of ‘making people realise they are in love’ serve you in engaging the wider community?”

“It’s the job half done, innit?” replied Rosie. “All I have to do now is to get them to propose to each other and - boom! Engagement!”

Caroline and Susie smiled shyly at each other.

“Thank you Rosie,” said Eileen. “I’m not sure that is quite the kind of engagement that the Big Wheel is aiming for, but thank you for wanting to share your expertise. Anyone else?”

It went eerily quiet. All ladies were suddenly busy examining whether their velcro shoes didn't have loose shoe strings. They occupied themselves with winding up their digital watches, or with looking for their glasses in their handbags even though they were firmly on their head. 

“I really think someone should volunteer to help Rosie take on this important task. Anyone? Ladies?” 

Another deafening silence. Eileen decided one sometimes had to be cruel to be kind. “Kate, isn’t this the perfect opportunity for you to gain leadership experience?”

“Show of hands for Rosie and Kate as our Community Engagement Officers?” shouted Tip. Everyone (except Kate) raised their hand.

“Very well, you are hereby appointed as CEOs by the assembly,” said Eileen, trying not to look in the direction of a stunned Kate. “I will forward the email with information from the Big Wheel to both our officers via your official Guild mail account. Yes Rosie, there IS an official pin. The Portsmouth chapter will send it to you. Not via email, no, via what the youth calls ‘snail mail’. Ah, I know what you will ask: by postmen and -women, not by snails. Not by snail women either. Well, ladies: don’t forget to bake your Lemon Drizzle for our stand at the charity run next Saturday. And now off to the pub with you!” 

She rolled her eyes at the speed with which the ladies scrambled to get out of the hall. “They are like children at the sound of the school bell,” she said to Pauline.

“Or like cleansed souls waiting to be released from purgatory,” replied Pauline evenly.

“Oh?” Eileen didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

They took a few minutes to close down the laptop, switch off the projector and rearrange the chairs. Then they carried the lectern to the side of the hall. They had done this routine so many times together, it was like a well choreographed dance. Soon it was all done.

“There we are! Thank you for your help, dear,” said Eileen. “Have a nice evening in the pub!”

“Will you...ahem...will you not join me for a drink?” asked Pauline.

“Well...I shouldn’t really. I have a very busy week ahead of me. I have a hair appointment on Wednesday.” 

“I’d be buying your drink.”

“Would you be?” Eileen studied Pauline’s inexpressive face intently. “Is it a special occasion?”

“Indeed. You are looking at the new second-aisle-manager at Lidl’s.” There was a modicum of enthusiasm in Pauline’s voice. “When the first-aisle-manager is ill or otherwise engaged in a crisis of a personal nature,I will be in charge of the stocking of Dog Snacks and Feminine Hygiene.”

“You are not!” exclaimed Eileen.

“I am.” Pauline’s eyes seemed to twinkle for a brief moment. It could have been a trick of the light.

“Well, to Heaven with hairdressers! This is cause for a celebration. Take me to the pub, my dear! Or should I say: madam Second-Aisle-Manager?”

The corners of Pauline’s mouth curved upward in what could only be described as a shadow of a smirk as she held out her arm.

It was promptly taken by Eileen. “Let’s paint the town red!” 

“I’m quite particular to mauve, myself.” 

Eileen smiled at the lady that was both rather special and her friend. “Well, as the diversity pack of the Big Wheel says: it takes all colours to make a rainbow!” 

“Except for pink,” said Pauline.

“That goes without saying.” But it only went without saying because Eileen had no idea what to say about it. “Will you buy me a Benedictine?”

“I will buy you two. Or if you are still a good conversationalist and I feel a little wild, I may even extend the offer to three.”

“It is my lucky night!” shrieked Eileen excitedly, as she locked the doors of the community hall behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely [Wonko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonko) proofread this and turned my Dutchlish into actual English. Thank you so much!! All of her work (Berena, StarTrek, Otalia, Dr. Who etc. etc. ) is incredible. Do go and read it!


	2. Hole in one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In which Eileen dresses down, Delilah might make it to Hole, and Tash doesn’t label her kid with a numerical age._

Eileen laced up her walking boots, zipped up her wind jacket, donned her sun hat, took her sun hat back off, slipped the strap of her handbag over her head, donned her sun hat once more and grabbed her umbrella. She looked in her hallway mirror. Yes, this would do.  
She might as well go for a vigorous walk on the Moors and release some stress. She had a vague headache from one-Benedictine-too-many on the night before. The fresh air would do her good. Besides, it was no use sitting in the house, getting increasingly worried about the Underground Ladies’ Mafia of Hole. Of course all signs pointed to a resurgence! It was plain to see! They were roping in Delilah and, by the sounds of it, good old Sal was being lured to the dark side too. But Eileen had defeated the ULMoH before - in the early eighties, when she was unimportant and under 40. She would surely be able to defeat them again. Right? Or would they be more aware of her now? Now that she was such an important public figure in the region? Now that she was Chairwoman of the very institution that the ULMoH was hellbent on destroying? Now that she was of pensioned age?   
Oh heavens! What if the ULMoH was trying to topple her personally? What if they weren’t just trying to overtake the Guild, but were looking to get rid of their Chairwoman? 

Come to think of it…. Eileen put her umbrella in the stand, unzipped her wind jacket (which wasn’t easy due to the strap of her handbag) and removed her regalia. Her sun hat fell off. It was best to leave her regalia at home today. She carefully hung them on a coat hook. Then she covered them with a shawl. 

She re-zipped her wind jacket (which wasn’t easy, because the strap of her handbag was in the way), put her sun hat back on and looked in the mirror. Yes this would do.  
It felt different - naked - to go out without her regalia. She wondered if people would recognise her without. But it was for the best. She needed to blend in with the common folk of Clatterford as much as possible today. Stealth mode achieved, she was ready to face the music, as they say.

She locked the door behind her and stepped outside into a beautiful, bright, sunny day. No, it just didn’t feel right. She rummaged through her handbag for her keys, went back in and grabbed her binoculars from the mantlepiece, removed her sun hat, hung the binoculars around her neck, readjusted the strap of her handbag so as not to get tangled with the binoculars, and put her sun hat back on. She looked in the mirror. Yes, this would do. 

She soon found herself on the main road through the village. The sun was shining on her sun hat and all around her birds were calling and trees were in bloom. It was a beautiful day. It had been a good idea to get out of the house.  
In the distance Eileen spotted a bird that might well have been a lapwing. Ah yes, it is that time of the year, she smiled to herself. And there in the distance she saw a tricyclist, pedaling fervently into the general direction of... Hole. Eileen held her binoculars in front of her eyes, adjusted the lenses and had her worst suspicions confirmed. It was none other than Delilah!...a-HA! 

Eileen’s heart was beating wildly as she hurried up the road. She decided she would follow Delilah to Hole and see who she was visiting. Was it truly the cheeseman, as Rosie had indicated? Or was Delilah meeting with the orthopedic mattress lady in the General Store of Hole? Everyone knew that woman still had ties to the ULMoH!

Eileen walked briskly to catch up with Delilah, yet soon had to slow down her pace. Delilah was cycling like a hamster. Do hamsters even cycle? thought Eileen to herself. Probably. And just like hamsters, Delilah didn’t seem to be making much progress. At first Eileen dwindled behind her for a bit. But soon she took pity and gave Delilah a firm push forwards. 

She heard some hissing that could be interpreted as “Thank you” when spoken by someone who was severely out of breath and had to speak through a misbehaving set of false teeth. 

“You’re very welcome, dearie,” Eileen replied. But, she argued to herself, she couldn’t very well push Delilah all the way to Hole! And anyway, it was too late now to unsuspiciously follow behind her. She had to abort the mission, immediately. But she had to make it look natural. 

“Just out and about on this lovely day!” she shrieked. “Looking for the lapwing!” She smiled a little too brightly at Delilah and pointed at her binoculars. “It’s that time of year again!” She put her binoculars in front of her eyes and turned around. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed.

Delilah hissed something that could have meant: “Did you see one?” 

“Yes...yes, I must go immediately.” Eileen gave Delilah one last push and walked off into the direction of the Crazy Golf Course ‘Clatterford-East’. It wasn’t a lapwing she had spotted through her binoculars, but the back of Sal’s head, sticking out above a bench on the side of the course.

As she walked closer she could see that Tash and Raph were playing golf and Sal was watching them from the side. A perfect opportunity for a casual chat about Sal’s absence from the Guild meeting!

So as to not seem suspicious, Eileen went to the kiosk to rent a club. 

“I would like to play golf, please!” she shouted into the window of the kiosk. “Oh, hello, Janine! I thought you were working at the supermarket?”

“Oh hello, Eileen Pike!” said Janine as her head popped out of the window. “I am still working at the Spar, but this is my second job. I’m saving up for a holiday in the Algarve.”

“The Algarve! Well...well, look at you!” 

Janine smiled. “Yep, I’ve always wanted to travel outside of Europe.” 

Eileen frowned. “Isn’t the Algarve in Portugal?”

“Yeah, in the south of Portugal.”

“Right dear, but Portugal is in the EU?” 

“My friend at customs says it isn’t.” 

“Right...well...well, I suppose she should know. It is hard to remember who is in the EU anymore these days. Did Portugal do an exit too?”

Janine nodded. “Portugone. It was all over the tabloids”

“Gosh..,” said Eileen. “Well. It is all going downhill. My father, who art in Heaven, fought for the Union in his day. If he were alive now, he would have choked on his eggnog. Dear old soul. A club and ball for me, please, Janine.”

Eileen paid and Janine handed her a club and a ball and pointed her into the direction of course 1. When she arrived there, the sun had disappeared behind the clouds and she had to flap the rim of her sun hat up to make sure she could see the best angles at which to hit the little golf ball.

It took Eileen about twenty tries, but she finally completed hole 1 by putting the little ball. She then played the second hole. It took her a respectable eighteen tries. Sal was sitting on the bench near hole 5. Dearie me, Eileen thought to herself, I will just have to skip hole 3, if I want to talk to Sal before noon.   
She looked around her to verify that no one saw her cheating, and then speed-walked over to hole number 4. She looked through her binoculars to see where the actual little hole was. (Hole! She shuddered.) It only took her about fifteen times. And then finally, finally she arrived at hole 5.

“Oh hello, Sal!” she brightly exclaimed. “Fancy seeing you here!” 

“Hello!” Sal looked up from her knitting.

Her. Knitting.

A cold shiver of dread ran down Eileen’s spine. 

Sal - Her Very Own Sal - was found KNITTING on a bench in her beloved village. 

“What...ah..eh...what are you making, dear?” Eileen managed to squeak.

“A hat for Spike!” Sal showed her the brightly coloured stitching. “I haven’t knitted for ages, but I find it’s like sex. You never unlearn it! It’s just a bit stiff in the beginning, but I find that with practice I’m quite flexible once more.”

“Yes...yes, quite.”

“Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Oh!” said Eileen. “A bit of exercise! You know me!”

“Yes, I do know you,” said Sal, while she continued to purl and k2tog as if she had been knitting all her life. “I do know you, and you voted against this golf course at the community hall. You said that we already had a crazy golf course in the West part of this village and there was no need for another, because nobody ever played crazy golf anyway.”

“A woman’s prerogative!” said Eileen. “I quite enjoy a spot of golf before lunch now!” For believability, she hit the ball a few more times, before turning to Sal (and her knitting - her KNITTING!) and tried to keep her voice calm: “Sal, dear, we missed you at the Guild’s meeting?” 

“Oh? Oh yes, I was in Hole.”

Eileen was so shocked by Sal’s full and frank confession, that she missed the ball and whacked her club against the sail of a little ornamental windmill on the course. Thankfully the sail didn’t break, but the “clunk!” could be heard across the grounds.

“In….in Hole?” she asked.

“Yes! I was at the General Store for a new dog bed, but then the lady there showed me their orthopedic mattresses. She even let me try one! I was sold immediately. I was going to be back in time for the meeting, but what with all the administration regarding the delivery of the mattress, I just couldn’t make it anymore. Did I miss much?”

“No...no. Not much.” Eileen suddenly couldn’t think clearly. Sal had fallen into the claws of the enemy. Eileen shouldn’t still be talking to her, unarmed as she was. “Uh...must continue!” She took her ball and walked to hole 6. But her spirit wasn’t in the game any longer. She felt Sal’s piercing stare on her back - was she here to spy on Eileen? - and it took her thirty-six tries to even get the ball through the crocodile’s mouth and out of his backside to the last part of the hole. She gave up. She ‘casually’ waved to Sal, so as not to seem suspicious. But Sal pretended not to see her and continued her knitting. (KNITTING! In CLATTERFORD!)

“Janine dear, I have come to return club and ball!” she shouted into the window of the kiosk.

Janine’s head popped out of the window. “Oh, I’m afraid I can’t accept them back yet, Eileen Pike. Rules & Regulations, you see.” She pointed at the notice board next to the window. “You can return the ball and club if you have finished all holes, and/or if the hour is up, and/or if there is an emergency, whichever comes first. So by my reckoning, you still have to complete holes 3 and 5, and 6 till 10, and/or complete forty-eight minutes more of crazy golf - I have deducted the minutes you spoke to Sal - and/or experience an emergency.” She shrugged and added: “Whichever occurs first.”

Defeated, Eileen stepped away from the window. Raph and Tash walked up. “Here you go Janine, we are slightly late, but we wanted to finish the entire course? It is good for the sharpening of the Will, to complete the goal you have set yourself?”

“Thanks Natasha Vine, and no problem!” said Janine. “I won’t charge you extra, since I have slightly overcharged you for young Raphael just now, seeing as he is under five.”  
“Thank you, Janine. That’s genuine!” said Tash. And turning to Raph: “Are you? Under five?” 

“I dunno...” he replied. “Under five what?” 

Eileen, meanwhile, found herself back at hole 3. To add to the misery: it started raining. She took her sun hat off and folded it into her handbag. Drat, she had forgotten her umbrella. 

“Bye, Eileen!” Sal waved as she accompanied Tash and Raph back to their (dry) home. Only forty-six minutes to go, or seven holes to complete, or an emergency to be experienced, whichever came first. Oh! What she wouldn’t give for a mild emergency!

She suddenly dashed to the kiosk. “I do have an emergency! I have an emergency!” she shouted into the window. “Discretion be damned! The ULMoH is after me!” She didn’t wait for Janine’s reply. She lobbed the club and the ball through the window, and she jogged all the way home, giving another push to poor old Delilah as she passed her on the way. She didn’t even stop for her usual decaf mid-morning cappuccino in the new cafe up the road. She was still out of breath when she sat down in her armchair, behind a double bolted front door, and with her regalia proudly displayed on her bosom once more. 

Her very worst fears were confirmed. Delilah had ties to Hole, Sal was knitting (and much worse...purling & k2togging!) as well as buying orthopedic mattresses. The ULMoH was active again; that much was certain! And they were after her. 

God help us all, she thought to herself as she bit into a mildly comforting* biscuit. Dearie me, god help us all in this time of need!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _* The level of comfort derived from a biscuit is directly correlated to the amount of chocolate it is covered in. That is Science ™._


	3. Bloody Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In which no one knows_ anything _about Macky Mallon._

Susie sat at the bar of the local pub and flattened her skirt carefully, before taking a paper handkerchief from her bag. She wiped the counter with some vigour, folded away the kerchief carefully and sighed. She placed her elbows on the counter and sighed again.

“Go on, treat yourself. A Bloody Mary?” asked Tip. “You look like you could use one. Well, if I’m honest, you look like you could use four.”

Susie smiled, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes, I don’t see why not. Just the one though. I’ll take the Dial-A-Bus back home.”

“That’s the spirit. One Bloody Mary, coming up!” 

The doorbell rattled and a fresh faced Kate walked in. “Good afternoon, Susie! Hiya, Tip! I’ll be in the back, yes?” 

“Yep! The usual?”

“Please!” Kate walked to the back and out of sight.

Susie raised her eyebrows and looked up at Tip. 

“Oh, she usually meets the Vicar here after her shift. When he comes in, I serve them both tea with a biscuit. Who said romance is dead?!” She placed a large glass in front of Susie.

Susie took a sip of her drink and sighed.

“Is it?” inquired Tip.

“Is what?”

“Is romance dead?”

“Oh. Oh! Do you mean the romance between Caroline and myself? Oh goodness no. It is very much alive!” 

“That’s good.” Tip served herself a glass of water. “So why the long face?”

“Oh...it’s...well, it’s private.”

“Go on. Being a barmaid is like being a confessor. There’s less Hail Marys and more Bloody Marys involved, but it’ll lift your spirits all the same! Try me.”

“Well, alright, but it’s between you and me.”

“Of course. You know me!”

“I do…That is the very cause for concern.”

“Oi, my silent mouth is melodious, Miss! What do you know about Macky Mallon?”

“The mousey chap with the Saab and the golden retriever?”

“The very one.”

“Nothing,” said Susie.

“Just my point.”

“Hm?” Susie took a sip of her drink.

“Indeed. So?”

“Well, alright. I suppose I can do with a bit of advice.” Susie put her drink aside, leaned over the counter and whispered to Tip. “I want to propose to Caroline, but I don’t know how to plan such a…”

Tip threw her hands in the air and a very gossipy, happy and loud “NOOoooo!” resounded. 

Behind them a chair clattered on the stone floor of the pub. “Oh, sorry! Sorry! Only I thought it was all right if I got an extra chair for when Hillary shows up?” Kate nervously skipped around the fallen chair.

“Yes, that’s fine of course.” Tip waved it off. “Oh! Yay! Oh! Susie!!! Trust me, Kate, that’s not what’s got me screaming!” 

“Oh, thank goodness!” Kate picked up the chair and walked up to the bar. “I thought...well, nevermind. What were you screaming about?”

Tip looked at Susie, who vehemently shook her head.

“No. No I shan’t.” Tip held up her hands. “My lips are sealed.”

“Are they though? Really?” asked Kate. “I mean, I know it’s a metaphor, hahaheh,” she nervously continued. “I know your lips aren’t sealed or you’d need a doctor! How would you eat? And you just talked anyway, so I know for sure they’re not truly sealed. I know it’s a saying. I know it means that you’re not allowed to tell me what you were screaming about, right? But is it about me?”

Tip raised one eyebrow. “Why, for the love of Jesus, and all of his Fisher’s of Men friends, would I scream about you?”

“Well, not scream so much, but I know people talk.” Kate fiddled with the enamel pin on her hoodie. It was in the shape of a wheel and read ‘Community Engagement Officer’. “Well,” she continued. “Everyone talks, so that’s easy to know, but I mean, they TALK talk, you know? About me? And Hillary? I mean, you know: May-September? Well May-August really?”

“Is August that German minister? No, I don’t want to know.” Tip raised her hand. “Just stop. All this Brexit talk is doing my head in. Susie, just tell her.” 

Susie choked on her Bloody Mary a bit and looked pleadingly at Tip.

“Gawaaan… Kate here has the self confidence of a prawn, yet the organisational skills of Mari Kondo. Two birds - one stone. We include her in our little scheme, she feels better, you get a great plan. Win-win. Trust me, I worked for a doctor.”

“I don’t trust you at all, and are we even in a scheme?” asked Susie. 

“Oh yes,” confirmed Tip.

“Will I be in the scheme?” asked Kate.

“Most definitely. We need you.”

“OH!!” Kate rushed to the bar and sat next to Susie. “You need me!”

“Yes, we need you,” said Tip solemnly. “We need you to be silent.”

“OH!! Oh yes, no, completely silent, yes!”

“And we need to know that you can be trusted with this most confidential information” said Tip. 

“What information? Secret information? Are we a club?” Kate excitedly drummed on the counter.

“A club?” Susie put her Bloody Mary down. “Really? I wouldn’t mind sharing so much, but how will I be sure that you two will keep this to yourselves? You are not doing a very good job so far, Tippi.”

“Guides honour?” said Tip.

“Were you ever even in the scouts?” asked Susie.

“Oh, me! Me! I was! Still am! Lead Volunteer!” Kate saluted.

“Tip?”

Tip shook her head. “Pshh. Not.”

“Then we clearly need something else,” Susie said.

“Indeed. We can only tell you, Kate, after you’ve become our Blood Sister and have sworn total and eternal secrecy,” said Tip.

“Yes, no, of course,” said Kate. “Blood Sisters, oh wow! How exciting! Is that where we cut our fingers and press the wounds together? I’ve read about that! Oh, I’ve always wanted Blood Sisters!”

“That’s…” Susie’s face was all crumpled up. “No. I won’t.”

“Hmm… It isn’t my most hygenic idea, I’ll give you that,” said Tip. “I know! We’ll become Sisters of the Blood of Mary! Bloody Sisters, if you will! Give us your glass. To Sisterhood!” She took a healthy swig of Susie’s Bloody Mary and handed the glass to Kate as she solemnly said: “With this sip you swear allegiance to the Sisterhood of Bloody Mary. You will keep all our secrets and you will defend our holy friendship. Will you enter into this sacred bond with us?” 

“Yes! Yes!” said Kate excitedly and took a sip from the glass and handed it back to Susie, who cleaned the rim with her handkerchief and took a sip herself.

“Now for our official motto.., said Tip: “Sláinte!” 

“Sláinte!” they said in unison.

When the vicar entered the pub not fifteen minutes later, he found a trio of overexcited women, frantically scouring the internet on their mobiles for wedding proposal ideas. Kate had already started a new shared account on Pinterest and filled it with ideas about candles, balloons and rings. (“See?” said Tip to Susie. “She’s got organisational skills, that one.”) 

They tried to make the Vicar swear to secrecy; something that was against his oaths to do. But when he promised, with his hand on his pocket New Testament, to be a faithful defender of the Sisterhood (whatever that was), they left him to his own devices. He sipped his tea at the bar, and looked on as his Kate, his radiant Kate, chatted away excitedly with her friends about the beautiful and sacred institution of marriage. As godly women were wont to do. Life was good.


	4. Alan Stitchmarsh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In which the Vicar shows his masculine feminist side and Caroline gets a gay haircut._

“It’s a little on the hot side, sorry Janine,” said the Vicar.

“I will turn it down some, Reverend Hillary,” said Janine. She fiddled with the settings on the drying cap for a minute. “Do you want another cup of tea?”

“Ah, yes, yes!” It was the Vicar’s usual Wednesday morning routine: a trip to the hairdresser’s to get a thorough shampooing, having his head massaged, having his split ends trimmed, and having his delicate curls dried. Every other week he would also get a manicure. A manly manicure of course. He was the figurehead of society. He had to look the part.

And every Wednesday he would have his two cups of tea at the hairdresser’s. His second cup of tea was on the way but, unlike normal, he didn’t have his newspaper at hand. He had found that his hands were often otherwise occupied these days...

The doorbell rattled, and in walked Eileen.

“Oh hello, Eileen!” said the Vicar.

“Only me!” shouted Eileen towards the back of the hairdresser’s. 

“Hello, Eileen Pike! Right on time!” Janine came back in with a cup of tea that she carefully placed in front of the Vicar.

“Thank you, thank you,” he said.

“Are you working here too now, Janine?” asked Eileen. “I thought you only worked at the Spar and at the Crazy Golf?”

“No, I work here too; I’m saving up for my holiday,” said Janine. 

“That’s right, to the Algarve!”

“Yeah, and you were correct. Portugal is still in the EU. It’s only us that are leaving. So I might need emigration papers after all.”

“Immigration papers, surely? But are those even necessary? Wouldn’t a simple visa do? Oh the whole business is so ridiculous, it is making me nauseous. Let’s not even discuss it,” said Eileen. She hang up her coat and sunhat. “Where do you want me?”

“Well...do you want it washed?” asked Janine.

“No, no I always wash my hair on Mondays and Fridays. A dry cut only, if you please. I find that it holds its shape better that way.”

“Then sit right next to the Vicar, please. Cup of tea?”

“Do you have a sugar-free decaf low-fat soy cappuccino?”

“Most certainly.” Janine disappeared to the back.

“Nice weather for the time of year, isn’t it?” The Vicar looked at Eileen via the mirrors in front of them.

“Yes,” she said.

“What?” he asked. He pointed to the drying cap. “It is rather noisy under here, sorry!” 

“YES!” Eileen said.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, nice weather!” 

“Indeed.” The Vicar took a sip of his tea. “What do you think?” He held up his knitting.

Eileen said nothing. She looked rather pale.

“What?” said the Vicar.

Eileen said: “NOTHING!”

“No: knitting!” said the Vicar with pride. “I went to a workshop on ‘Putting the Man back into Manners’. It was organised by the Ecumenal Council of Hole. And they had a lecture by my good friend Alan Titchmarsh. ‘Is Knitting the New Gardening?’ Well... guess what? ... It is!”

“Is...is that so?” said Eileen.

“What?” said the Vicar.

“OH!” said Eileen.

“He inspired me quite a bit! I have decided to knit my own cape for the Beating of the Bounds ceremony this year!” 

“OH!” said Eileen.

“Yes. Isn’t this a lovely colour?” The Vicar held up his knitting once more. “It is the deep red that is reminiscent of the cape of Saint George. The defender of Good versus Evil! I have been researching him quite a lot lately, what with the folly of Brexit looming.”

“OH!” said Eileen.

“Sal taught me how to purl,” he continued. He held up his knitting so she could appreciate his advanced techniques.

“OH!” said Eileen. “EXCUSE ME!” She stood up from her chair.

“Of course, of course,” said the Vicar. He was always in a good mood when he was having his weekly pampering session. He was not about to take offense to someone not appreciating his knitting, as much as he knew his good friend Alan Titchmarsh would.

“Janine!” shrieked Eileen. “Janine, I have to go. I’m coming over all funny.” 

“I’ve just made your cappuccino…” Janine reappeared.

“I’m sorry dear, but I must go home immediately. It’s an emergency, you understand!” 

“Again?” Janine frowned. 

“Still!!!” shrieked Eileen. “Put it on my bill if you must! I need to go!” And she ran out of the shop.

“Are you keen on a sugar-free low-fat decaf soy cappuccino, Reverend Hillary?” asked Janine.

“What?” asked the Vicar.

“CAPPUCCINO?” said Janine. 

The Vicar shrugged. “If you have one going!” He was never the kind of man to turn down luxury on a Wednesday.

It wasn’t a minute later when the doorbell rattled again. 

“Oh hello, Caroline Martin!”

“Hello, Janine. Hello, Vicar. Was that Eileen running out of here?”

“It was, yes. Ms Pike had a continued emergency.”

“Right... Right. That must be very inconvenient.”

“Hmm.” said Janine as she pointed to the coat rack. “She even forgot her sunhat, she was in such a hurry. Anyway, can I be of service?” 

“I think you can be, yes,” said Caroline. “I would like to have my hair done.”

“Now?” said Janine.

“If possible. Do you have a spot?” 

“You can take Ms Pike’s spot, if you’d like?”

“So kind. Ta!”

“Washing and cutting?” 

“No, just cutting for me. Can I take a chair?” 

“Yes, of course.” Janine pointed to the empty chair next to the Vicar. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“A coffee, black, ta.” As Janine disappeared to the back, Caroline sat next to the Vicar and waved hello to him via the mirror.

“What?” said the Vicar. And he pointed to his drying cap. “Can’t hear you!”

“NOTHING!” said Caroline.

“No: knitting!” said the Vicar, and held up the red woolen flap that would one day be his flowing, red, Georgian cape. 

“Impressive,” said Caroline.

“What?” said the Vicar.

“IMPRESSIVE!” shouted Caroline up into the Vicar’s drying cap.

“Thank you.” The Vicar smiled. “Are you a knitting enthusiast?” 

Caroline leaned over to shout her answer into his drying cap again. “NO!” 

“Ah, shame. Shame. I’m knitting a cape for the Beating of the Bounds, you see.” The Vicar continued his knits and purls.

“JOLLY GOOD!”

And she added to Janine, who had placed a black coffee in front of her: “I like a man that can knit his own outerwear.”

“I didn’t think you liked men anymore?” said Janine.

“Oh, I do. Just recreationally, these days.” 

“Right, well…” Janine sat down on her hairdresser’s stool behind Caroline and fluffed her hair. “The usual?” she asked.

“The usual,” confirmed Caroline.

Janine took the spray bottle of water and held it up. “I’m just going to squirt some on your hair.”

“I BEG YOUR PARDON, YOUNG LADY?!?”

The vicar looked up from his knitting. Whatever could have caused Caroline to lose her usually calm demeanor? Should he intervene? Or would it be best to be a feminist? He firmly believed in the powers of these capable women to solve the crisis of their own making. Yes, he had always been a strong supporter of the women in his community. He took a sip from his cappuccino. Life was good.

“I BEG YOUR PARDON!!” Caroline’s voice echoed through the hairdresser’s again. “I’ll have you know, little miss, that I am in a long distance relationship!”

“Are...are you?” said Janine meekly.

“I am indeed! Me and Susie are planning to be together for the long U’haul. From here to Heaven, I’ll have you know. You’d do well to keep such nonsense to yourself! Lavishing me in your nether fluids! Honestly! Why does everyone assume willy nilly that when one is attracted to one woman, one is attracted to all?! Hmm?!”

“S...sorry, Ms Martin. I didn’t know you’d take offence. It was only a suggestion. I can cut your hair without.” 

“Then I suggest you’d get on with it, girl. Chop chop!”

With trembling hands Janine gave Caroline her hair cut. She couldn’t afford to lose yet another customer. It was only thanks to her nerves of steel, and her absolute determination to make it to the Algarve before it was Brexited out of reach, that she managed to cut Caroline’s hair in mostly straight lines. No hetero.


End file.
